The Labyrinth of Fragile things

Chapter VIII - The prize that Harriet Watson brought

"You cannot expect me to forgive you after all you have done," a thick French accent spoke. A couple who were initially running together, stopped mid way on the running tracks, their voice levels escalating, and I increased my walking pace. I had reached the quaint town that is named Hubers, and found myself looking at the 'Kanya Hotel'. The time went by quickly as I was staring at the fresh autumn leaves, the marvelous landscape, and the amount of cats that passed beneath my trench coat. For some of this I was in the cab, for others I was walking on a pathway, I couldn't tell.

I passed through the rotating doors of the hotel and found myself regretting so almost immediately. The place smelled of cat dung, and I tried my hardest to not wrinkle my nose in disgust. The whole place looked as if it might collapse in on itself, the walls filled with cracks and poor paint jobs. The colour was drab, no lighting other than a few windows that were placed so high that they almost reached the ceiling. I found myself caught in the few shadows of yellow, and moved immediately. The only reason why anyone would stay here was because it was insanely cheap. I knew I'd find Harry here.

The security was quite poor, so sneaking onto Harry's level was not difficult. She was on the third level, room 18. I knocked on the door, creating a rapping sound.It took a moment, but she opened the door with a mischievous smile, letting her intoxicating breath escape her mouth. Harriet Watson was a short blonde with yellow stained teeth, and had the charm of a skunk. She was wearing a plain white tank top and an alarming shade of pink for shorts.

"Mr Sherlock Holmes," she slurred. "I've been waiting for you." She led the way into her hotel room as I shut the door behind me. She had the television so loud that I was surprised that no one had complained. Then again, a hotel like this didn't seem like they cared too much on the living conditions of those who occupied the rooms.

She obviously had been drinking and I groaned externally at her state. I hate associating with drunks. Their unbearable, harder to carry a conversation with than sober people."What? You too posh for this?" She gestured to her room, and then pointed to herself. "Or is it just me?"

"I'm not here for you, I'm here for John. You clearly know that if you've been expecting me." She smiled at nothing in particular and pulled a chair out for her to sit on. "John," she mumbled his name a couple of times as if it were some rhyme in a foreign language. "John's a good guy. Nothing like me."

She was right about that. There were no similarities between the siblings whatsoever. She did have his hair and nose, but as far a personality, they couldn't be farther apart. "Yes. I have an inkling that you know about his whereabouts. John did stay with you for the last week of his departure, did he not?"

"I'm not sure why such a good guy like John would get himself mixed with trouble like you." Because John's attracted to danger. Why do you think he went to war, and his best friend is a sociopath?

I didn't blame John for not talking about his sister. She was just simply insufferable.

"I'd say I'm sorry for the break up with your girlfriend except I'm not." I gave her a thin smile and paced around the room. Harry was completely taken aback so I furthered explained. "The tan line on your ring finger indicates that you only recently removed it, your drunken state, and your non compliant nature are all results of your lack of control over yourself thus not being able to handle a breakup."

Harry stared at me blankly for a moment, and then just smiled. Whether she was impressed or amused by her current situation, I wasn't sure. "John warned me about you. And your 'deductions'. She made quotations marks with her fingers as if the word were brand new.

She drew a long breath, and stood up with a glassy look in her eyes. She went to her stack of bills, which was terribly high, and returned to me with an envelope. I eyed it suspiciously and stretched my long white hand up for it, but she drew it back, almost hissing.

"I have a prize for you," she drawled. "Kind of like unlocking a achievement in a game."

"An achievement," I corrected her.

Harry rolled her eyes. "It's a letter from John." I was naturally intrigued as it was the first message I had gotten from John in years, and it's a primary source for the case. She handed it over to me, and slouched back onto her chair.

My fingers etched the corners of the envelope. I would have ripped the envelope to shreds to just read the letter, but I wanted to do so with Harry's prying eyes.

I reached the door and escaped from the wretched room that was Harriet Watson's. At least it wasn't a complete waste of my time. My eyes wandered to the room opposite hers. Perfect place to break into. I placed my hand on the handle, my fingers dancing around the lock. Being a thief did have it's advantages.

The door opened to reveal an empty room (as I suspected) that was almost identical to Harry's. The only difference was that the couple staying in this room knew how to occupy space. I lent my figure up against a wall and opened the envelope. My eyes scanned over the words, reading:

Dear Sherlock,

I've been staring at this godforsaken white paper for hours, just trying to think of a way to start off. Starting was always the hardest part, even when it came to my blog. I guess I'll just start with the obvious; I miss you. For whatever reason you jumped off that building I forgive you (well, not completely) because I just want to see you again. I'm not the only one misses you. Mrs Hudson has sort of been in a slump, and Lestrade often talks about how he misses you solving his crimes. 

I'm safe if that's what you're wondering. You probably aren't. You never really cared about that sort of stuff, but I am safe. I left on my accord, as you deduced. Since you got this letter from Harry you're on the right track. 

I'm sorry if Harry was a bit of an idiot. She's just not in a good place at the moment.

Apart from my ramblings, I do have some information: felina. 

I hope you're enjoying the case. I know you show interest in the more peculiar ones. See you soon, 

John Watson.

I hadn't realized that I was holding my breath until I reached the end of the letter. I breathed in, dissapointed that I finished reading. I found myself re-reading certain parts of the letter. I smiled to myself, hopeful.